


A Court of New Beginnings

by Frostandstarlight11



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Feysand babies, Feysand pregnancy, Pregnancy, feyre - Freeform, feysand, rhys - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 03:51:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 11,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11267364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostandstarlight11/pseuds/Frostandstarlight11
Summary: Set after ACOWAR, Feyre and Rhysand are enjoying their lives when an unexpected surprise occurs that will change their lives forever. (Feysand Pregnancy)





	1. Morning

Warm, grey light seeped in through the windows, casting the room in hazy shadows.I yawned and stretched out, rolling over and breathing in deeply. Sea and citrus — the smell of my mate washed over me. I rolled over to find Rhysand already awake, smily at me sleepily. His hair was mussed by sleep and his eyes crinkled at the corners. I scooted closer to him, wrapping myself in his warmth and his scent. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of my head.  
“Good morning,” he said against my hair. I merely yawned again in response, still groggy. Rhys rubbed my back lazily, his hands migrating lower and lower with each stroke. Well that was certainly one way to wake me up. I pulled back just enough to look up at his face, which was now giving me a devilish grin. Need some help waking up? He said through our bond. I would be happy to oblige you.  
Such a dirty mind, I said back down the bond, as my hands began an exploration of their own. His skin was velvety smooth, his muscle hard beneath it. His hands slid from my back to my ribs, sliding up to cup my breasts, just as —  
A wave of nausea overtook me and I ripped myself from his embrace, barely making it to the toilet in time. The cold marble of the bathroom floor seeped into my skin as I retched, my naked body shaking. Rhys was instantly beside me, pulling my hair out of my face and rubbing my back, trying to provide me what small comfort he could. Wave after wave of nausea gripped me and I retched, over and over. Finally, as the nausea began to recede and I deemed it safe to move away from the toilet, I leaned back and shivered.  
“Are you alright?” Rhys asked gently.  
“I — I think so,” I stammered. I made a move to push myself off the floor, but he was instantly there, picking me up and carrying me to the bed. “Must have been something I ate,” I muttered as he laid me gently against the pillows and pulled the sheets up to cover me.  
“Do you need anything?” he said, fussing over how the pillows were plumped.  
“Water?” I rasped, and he immediately padded back into the bathroom and returned with a glass of water cupped between his hands. I took it from him and drank deeply, washing my mouth out.  
“You should stay in bed,” he said as I made a move to sit up. I sat upright and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Finding that my nausea had remained at bay, I stood on unsteady legs. He made a move to help me but I waved him off and walked across the room, throwing my armoire open. I pulled out a cropped top and a loose, billowy pair of pants, cut in the typical night court fashion.  
“I have work today. I shouldn’t miss it.” I pulled the shirt and pants on.  
“I think people would forgive you for taking a sick day,” he said, eyeing my warily, as if searching for some physical source of sickness, something that could explain my nausea.  
“I’ll be fine,” I merely said, and strolled out of the room. Making my way downstairs, I found the table already laden with breakfast pastries and fruits, a pot of tea steeping in its kettle. Deciding that food might not be the best idea, I poured myself a cup of tea and settled in at the table. Rhys emerged from our bedroom and walked down the stairs, plopping into the seat across from me.  
“Are you sure you’re going to be fine?” He asked again, faced limned with worry.  
“I promise,” I said, sipping my tea. “Now stop fussing, you mother hen.” He flicked my nose and I batted his hand away, smiling as I did. Don’t like that? he said into my mind as he arched an eyebrow, giving me a half smirk. Maybe you’re insufferable teasing is what caused me to be sick, I said with a little pout. He laughed out loud at that. Glancing at the clock on the mantle, I and realized I needed to leave now or I wouldn’t be giving myself enough time to set up before people started arriving.  
“Fortunately or unfortunately, I’ve got to be on my way. I’ll see you tonight,” I said, leaning across the table to give him a kiss.  
“Goodbye, my love,” he said as I turned on my heel and walked out the door and into the bright, crisp morning. Early as it was, the streets of Velaris were already awake and beginning to fill with people. A gaggle of laughing children walked down the street, on their way to school. I smiled as I passed them, and they all looked up at me and waved in passing. As I picked my way through the streets, people waved to me, smiling or offering warm greetings. I smiled right back, making my way across the beautiful city to the Rainbow of Velaris. I came to stop outside a large shop with an open storefront, and walked inside as I conjured a ball of faelight to illuminate the interior. My painting studio. My sanctuary — this whole city, all it’s people, were a sanctuary, a save haven. A place for art and light and life to thrive. And I had opened a painting studio, just like I had dreamed those days in the cabin when Rhys and I had mated. I had made this place for people like me, people who were broken and healed, or were still healing. A place for them to come and feel safe, and cared for, a place where they could paint and remember what it felt like to be filled with color and joy. I never charged the denizens of my shop, instead funding it with money I made by selling my own paintings.  
I looked around at the walls, covered head to tow with canvases brimming with color, painted by me and by my customers, the walls themselves splattered with smears and drips of paint, and an enormous wave of satisfaction washed over me. I took in all I had done in these past years, all the people I had helped, all those souls I had provided a space to heal. I smiled to myself, walking into the store room and grabbing pots of paint, brushes, pallets, and cups for water. Easels were set up haphazardly throughout the shop, some still with half finished works on them and some sporting clean, blank canvases. Being here, in this place I had created, this safe space… It made me feel calm. Settled. Peaceful.  
As I flitted about the shop, placing supplies in front of different work stations, people began to filter through the entryway to my shop. It was well known to the people of Velaris — the studio run by their High Lady, the studio where you were free to come and paint to your heart’s delight. I greeted every person who passed the threshold in turn, smiling and clasping their hands, welcoming back frequent flyers and inviting newcomers to join. Everyone was welcome here, and all manner of High Fae and Faerie and even humans now occupied the space. I could — I would spend eternity doing this, helping others find their inner creativity, find that hidden color that lurked within. I looked at the studio, at the colorful streets now teeming with people, and soaked in the feeling, savoring every second of it. For there had been a time, not so long ago, when I didn’t have the freedom to do this. When we had been faced with war, and even before then, when I had always been days away from starvation, when death had sat on my doorstep, my constant companion. So I took in the sights and sounds and smells of the Rainbow, and I didn’t waste a damn second of it.


	2. Training

As I trudged back up the hill toward the townhouse, I tried to take in the beauty around me. Tried to appreciate the smiling people, many of them waving at me. But my ankles throbbed, swollen from the heat, and I had been feeling off all day since being sick that morning. Out of alignment, off balance, almost as if my center of gravity had shifted. I brushed it off as another side affect of the scorching mid-day sun, heating the air around me to temperatures that rivaled those of a burning furnace. Growing tired of dragging myself along sluggishly, I winnowed the rest of the way home. Rhys had been off somewhere with Azriel all day, and save for me, the house was empty. Five minutes later I had managed to wriggle my way into my Illyrian fighting leathers, strapped on an assortment of daggers, knives, and an Illyrian blade, and made my way up to the roof. Summoning my wings, I flew myself through the sky above Velaris until I reached the House of Wind and alighted on the outdoor training area. Cassian was already waiting for me.  
“Thought you might not show,” he smirked at me as I dismissed my wings. “I heard you were feeling under the weather this morning.” Rhys must have told him about my bout of nausea.  
“Not to worry, I’m perfectly well enough for you to beat the living daylights out of,” I snarked back at him. It came out harsher than intended. He took my comment as a warning to back down until I had my hands wrapped and he could kick my ass in the sparring ring. I grabbed a roll of tape and started to work on my hands, then ran through a quick warm up routine of exercises to stretch to loosen my muscles and get myself moving. As I finished up, I stepped into the ring at the same moment Cassian did. Eyeing the way I dropped into a fighting stance, Cassian raised his hands into defensive position, beckoning to me in a come-hither motion. Circling around the ring, I waited until his right side was exposed before lashing out quick as an asp, ducking his defensive strike and the pounding him in a one-two maneuver he had taught me. He caught my wrist and spun me around so fast I saw stars.  
He released my wrist, and I continued to spin. I whirled around, trying to use my momentum to re-direct it into a blow to his chest, when the spinning suddenly overtook me and a wave of dizziness rolled over me. I stumbled back, making it to the edge of the ring before I fell flat on my back, nearly knocking the breath from me. And then all that spinning dragged up a lingering feeling of nausea from deep in my gut, and I barely had enough time to roll to the side before I retched all over the ground.  
As I looked upwards, eyes unfocused, a dark shadow blotted out the sun.  
“Are you alright?” Cassian said, standing over me and extending a hand to help me up. I took it gladly and hauled myself to a sitting position.  
“I’m… not sure,” I said, pursing my lips.  
“Maybe you should skip training today. Take a day off.” Cassian pushed me hard in training, never cutting me any slack, never giving me a day off. So for him to be telling me I needed a break… I must have truly looked as awful as I felt.  
“I don’t think I can survive another round of that,” I admitted to him. “I might head back to the townhouse. I don’t feel quite right.” He nodded his agreement.  
“Do you need any help getting back?” He asked.  
“No, I think I’ll be alright,” I said as I summoned my wings. I waved to him, then turned and walked to the edge of the roof. No sooner had my feet left the ground then a wave of exhaustion hit me, throwing a blanket over my senses. I made it all of a hundred feet outside of the no-winnow zone before I was forced to winnow myself the rest of the way back to the townhouse. I landed in our bedroom, discarding the knives strapped to me as I walked across the carpeted floor. I barely made it to the bed, not bothering to dismiss my wings or strip off my leathers as I fell into bed and let sleep claim me.


	3. Under The Weather

I was sick for the next two days, and thanks to my episode on the roof of the House of Wind, Rhys wouldn’t let me leave the bed until I’d proven I was feeling better and wouldn’t faint any second. Not that it mattered — I was so sick that it was an effort to make it to the toilet every time I was overtaken by a wave of nausea. Rhys eventually brought me a bucket so I wouldn’t have to keep dragging myself from bed every time I hurled my guts up. When I had the energy, I bided my time reading books Mor brought me from the massive library in the House of Wind. When I was too tired, I would curl up into a ball and lay on the bed, and Rhys would snuggle up beside me and hold me, rubbing soothing hands up and down my sides and back.  
Sometimes I would doze off and wake to find Rhys watching me, a wary look in his eyes, as if he was trying to solve some puzzle and was missing a piece. Every time I caught him doing it I would ask him what was wrong, but he would just shake his head and tell me I needed to rest. He was right though — I felt utterly wrecked, like I had been trampled by a stampede of horses.  
By the third day, I finally had enough energy to leave the bedroom. As I dragged myself to the sitting room downstairs, Rhys stayed by my side, a hand braced on my back in case I felt dizzy and fainted before I could make it down the stairs. As I settled into a plush couch with a book I had been working on Rhys went into the kitchen to fetch us some tea. By the time he returned, steaming kettle and teacups in hand, I had curled my legs beneath me and was already enthralled in my novel. “Here you go,” he said, setting the tea on a low lying table next to the couch as he settled in beside me. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” he said. Something in his tone made me pause my reading and meet his gaze.  
“I feel much better than I have been,” I admitted truthfully.  
“So you don’t need me to send for Madja?” he said, his words still laced with worry and something else I couldn’t quite place.  
“No, I don’t think I need a healer. I really am feeling better, Rhys,” I said, laying my hand atop his and looking into his eyes, trying to convince him that I really was feeling much better than I had been, at least in the sense that I didn’t feel the need to vomit every five minutes.  
“Just let me know if you change your mind,” he said as he flipped open his own book and turned to a page he had marked, no doubt where he’d left off last time he’d had to drop it and grab my bucket for me before I spilled the contents of my stomach all over our bed. He still seemed tightly wound, his worry for me practically a palpable thing in the room beside us. But as the matter seemed settled for now, I simply poured myself a cup of tea and returned to my own book.


	4. An Unexpected Surprise

Another day of rest and reading and Rhys keeping watch and I was finally able to return to the world outside our townhouse. I felt well enough to go to my studio, and Rhysand decided to join me, claiming it had been far too long since he had spent a day painting and bantering with the denizens of the Rainbow. I realized him coming with me was as much about spending a day in the studio as it was to ease his own worries about me, but he had been acting somewhat strange ever since I started feeling sick, and I decided there were definitely worse things he could be getting up to. He seemed to read my thoughts as he turned to me with a wicked gleam in his eye and said down the bond, I can definitely think of a few less savory ways I could be spending my time. My hiss of laughter filled the bridge between our minds, coupled with his quiet, rasping chuckle. Later, I promised him, with a sultry sweep of my eyelashes. He just grinned like a fiend and turned back to the canvas he was sitting in front of.  
We spent all day in the shop, and when the sun finally began its descent behind the red, rocky mountains bordering Velaris, we closed up shop together and walked through the city. The entire Rainbow was set ablaze in bright hues of orange and red by the setting sun, and I captured the image in my mind, knowing I would paint it when given the next opportunity. Knowing I would paint him, his face laughing and smiling, the worry finally eased from his eyes, face alight with the colors cast by the setting sun. Happiness Eternal, I would call it.  
When at last we finished our promenade, Rhys told me that Mor had asked us to join them all in the House of Wind for dinner that evening. Deciding that I finally had room in my stomach again for more than just tea and broth, we both summoned our wings and flew to our second home built into the mountains guarding over Velaris. As we flew over the city, people waved and smiled up at us, and we returned the gesture. By the time we reached the house, I was feeling famished, hungrier than I had been in days. Mor was there to greet us, ushering us into the waiting dining room where Nesta and Cassian were just sitting down next to Elain, Lucien, and Azriel, the table already laden with food. Amren and Varian were currently residing in the Adriata— they spent the year alternating between the Night and Summer courts.  
Nesta and Cassian had been slowly falling for each other in those initial months after the war, in the same way Rhys and I had. At first, Nesta had refused to admit she felt anything for the Illyrian, even after all that had transpired between the two of them. Truly, I believe she was afraid of having feelings for him at first because she scared he would be taken from her, and after all that had happened, after losing my own mate only to have him returned to me, I can’t say I blamed her. But after a few months of dancing around it, they finally professed their feelings for each other. Soon after, the mating bond had snapped into place between them.  
The process of Elain and Lucien courting each other had been much longer, as it had taken my sister a while to heal from the scars of her first engagement. But Lucien had patiently waited for my sister to heal enough to realize that it wasn’t just the mating bond between them — that she too felt something for him stronger than just that. It had taken several years, but she had eventually admitted to being in love with him and accepted their mating bond. As for the shadowsinger and my bright, lovely cousin-in-law, she had finally told him the truth of her feelings — why she did not, could not, love him in the way he loved her. She had come clean about her preference for females to all of us several years after the war. Azriel had hidden his feelings well, as he always did, and even though he had been devastated to find she would never love him back, he had also been kind and understanding. It seemed to have eased something within him, to know that even though she didn’t reciprocate his feelings, it wasn’t because she didn’t find him worthy. Their friendship had grown stronger as a result, but there would always be a lingering rift between the two of them.  
Pulling my thoughts from my family and back to the present, I took in the various dished adorning the table. The delicious aroma wafting off of them was enough to make my mouth water, and I suddenly felt light headed with hunger. After embracing Mor and greeting the rest of my family, I claimed an empty seat next to Nesta, Rhys taking the one to my left. I loaded up my plate with roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and an assortment of greens, not waiting for an invitation before digging in to my meal.  
“Well you certainly have a… voracious appetite,” Cassian said, eyeing me quizzically.  
“Especially for someone who’’s been hurling her guts up non-stop for the past week,” Mor chimed in through a mouthful of potatoes.  
“What — am I not supposed to eat?” I snapped. “Its better than the alternative,” I mumbled through another bite of chicken. Moody — why was I so on edge? Why couldn’t I just accept their taunting and banter as I normally did? Rhys just shook his head and laughed, looking at me again with that same wariness, that same curiosity. Why do you keep looking at me like that? I asked him through the bond.  
It’s just… he trailed off, not finishing the thought. I let it go, turning my attention wholly back to consuming the ungodly amount of food heaped on my plate. The others continued talking, sharing what they had been doing while I’d been cloistered in the townhouse. Elain had opened up a local garden center in the city where people could come tend plots of land or buy fruits, vegetables, and flowers that she had grown in her impressive garden. She regaled us all with tales of the beautiful things that were currently blossoming in her own person garden. Cassian had been away in the Steppes, checking in on the Illyrian war camps, and Nesta and Mor had accompanied him to help with training the females in the camp, while Az had been away on the continent. The night wore on and the sun set further behind the mountains, casting the city in shadows and eventually swallowing it up in darkness. The stars illuminating the sky were bright as the lights of the city below it. Finishing my blueberry cobbler and smiling at having spent the evening in good company, Rhys and I eventually bid the others good night and decided to return home for the evening.  
I walked out onto the deck of the House of Wind, a cool breeze caressing my face. Rhys walked up beside me, laying a hand on my lower back. We surveyed our city, the City of Starlight. In the night the streets glowed like so many stars in the sky. I felt Rhys shift his gaze to me and turned to meet it.  
“Care to join me?” he said, extending a hand. Knowing exactly what he meant, I grinned, summoning wings and taking his hand as we both stepped off the deck. A split second of exhilarating free fall, and then an updraft came and lifted us up, up, into the air. Hand in hand, we flew through the night, looping and swirling and soaring until we might have been stars in the sky ourselves. Carefree and peaceful, we flew and flew and flew.   
Minutes or hours later we alighted atop the townhouse, hand in hand, grinning. I looked into Rhys’s eyes, so full of starlight and quiet joy. I felt a gentle caress down my mental shield, a silent request. I obliged him, dropping my shield and letting his mind wrap around mine, a joining of our souls. He wrapped his arms around my neck, nuzzling into the space between my neck and shoulder and inhaling deeply — breathing in my scent. I inhaled his, too, taking it deep into my lungs. And then his eyes flew open and he took a step back, breathing suddenly shaky, uneven. I yelped at the sudden lack of his heat to combat the cool night air.  
“What — what’s wrong?” I sputtered, utterly confused. I looked into his eyes to find them rimmed with silver. “What is it?” A slow smile spread across his face, and he just looked at me, taking me in from head to tow, grinning like a maniac. “Out with it already!” I said, needing to know what it was he saw that was making him act so strangely.  
“Feyre you’re…” he trailed off. “I wasn’t sure, these last few days. But with how you’ve been acting, and how sick you’ve been, and now your scent… You’re pregnant,” He said, as a tear slipped onto his cheek.  
The world stopped. I wasn’t sure I was breathing. “I’m…” I trailed off, letting the weight of those words settle over me. And then he was crying, and I was crying, and he wrapped me into a gentle but fierce embrace, kissing away my tears, kissing my lips as his hands gripped the sides of my face. He had suspected these last few days, but had kept it from me. That was why he kept giving me that puzzling look — like he was trying to solve a riddle. And then he had scented it on me — had smelled it when he breathed me in. I brought my hands up to twine them in his hair, pulling him closer, to find I was glowing — literally glowing with happiness. It was all I felt, in every pore of my body — sheer and utter joy. Unending joy as Rhys held me and kissed me and breathed in my scent over and over again. And then he dropped to his knees and wrapped his hands around my waist, placing a kiss on my stomach, on our child who was growing beneath it, murmuring loving words onto my belly. He looked up at me, eyes aglow, and I dropped to my knees in front of him. He pulled me into a fierce kiss, smiling onto my lips. I let him tug me onto the ground and make love to me beneath the star-flecked sky.


	5. Time to Get Serious

The next morning I awoke to sunlight streaming in through the windows, to find Rhysand staring at me — watching me sleep. I smiled as I looked at him, taking in his whole glorious, naked figure as he did the same of mine. His eyes snagged on my stomach, still smooth and taught from years of training with Cassian, and I realized it would not be that way for much longer. Rhys said as much as he rolled over gently braced his hands on either side of my hips. He stroked his hands over the planes of my stomach, trailing kisses in their wake. I could feel him smiling onto my skin as he pressed his lips onto it, over and over.   
“Do you —” my voice snagged on the words. “I know we never discussed this, not really, and with all you’ve been through, it might be hard for you, but… Is this something you’re really sure about? Is this —”  
“Feyre. Feyre,” he rasped, cutting me off. “I thought there was nothing I had ever wanted more in my life than to share it with you — to just be happy and to be able to share that happiness with you. I was wrong,” he said, his voice wobbling and full of emotion. “Because this — this right here, our family, our child… This is what I want from my life. I want to share my life with you, but more than that, I want to share this new life we’ve made, together, with you. There is nothing that would honor me more in the world.” My heart stilled, my whole world stilled, at the reverence that had entered his voice, at the words he uttered. And the thought of Rhysand as a father, the thought of my mate getting to raise our child alongside me… It brought tears to my eyes — tears of joy. A baby — we were going to have a child together. He kissed away my tears, as he had done for me so many times, as I had done for him, too. And then he pressed gentle, exploring kisses on my lips, my neck, between my breasts, making a steady descent toward where my core had already gone molten. He stopped his descent just below my bellybutton, eliciting a groan from me at his sudden pause, but he just pressed a gentle kiss to my stomach and whispered, “I love you already, little one.” And the gentleness with which he said it — it broke my heart. That after all he had endured for the ones he loved, he was still able to share his heart freely and uncompromisingly. And as his head at last lowered between my legs, giving me what I so desperately needed, as my horse cries of pleasure broke the morning silence, I let myself feel his love for me, for our little one. Let it wrap around me until it was almost a tangible thing, cradling my scarred heart in its palms.


	6. Healer

When hunger finally dragged us from the bedroom after a morning of tumbling in the sheets, my mate and I discussed how and when we would tell the others. He also mentioned that he would call for our healer, Madja, to come and check in on me and the baby, to see how far along I was and make sure everything was progressing properly. We decided that until Madja did her examination, we would not tell the others, and so Rhys summoned for her at her earliest convenience, which happened to be that morning.  
“Would you prefer a boy or a girl,” I asked him around a mouthful of melon. Since my days of sickness my appetite had returned tenfold, which I attributed to the life now I was now sharing my body with.  
“As long as it’s healthy, my love, it doesn’t much matter to me. Why, do you have a preference?” he inquired.  
I pursed my lips. “No, I supposed I don’t,” I replied. “Although…” I knew his thoughts turned to the same place mine did — to a prison cell deep beneath a mountain, guarded by gates of carved ivory bone. To an ancient death-god who no longer walked the Earth. An image of the Bone Carver as he had appeared to me flashed in my mind’s eye — a young boy, perhaps eight years old, with Rhysand’s nose, my mouth, and eyes of crushing blue. I smiled at the thought, at the image of the boy who was not yet born but may soon be. Even if thinking of the Carver, of the life he had sacrificed so that our people may be free, saddened me somewhat.  
“Perhaps a boy, then,” he said as a knock sounded at the front door. I made to rise from my seat to answer it, but Rhys moved faster, already at the door by the time I had stood up. He opened it and ushered Madja into the sitting room, exchanging greetings and catching up as I made my way over to them. When I reached them, I smiled at Madja and embraced her warmly, her aging and gnarled hands gripping me tightly. She was among the eldest faeries that I knew, High Fae and Faerie alike, and had been treating patients for over a millennium.  
“Congratulations, High Lady. You truly are blessed,” she beamed, giving a knowing look at my stomach. Children among High Fae were so rare and incredibly precious, making the fact that Rhys and I hadn’t even been trying to get pregnant that much more astonishing. In the years after the war with Hybern, I had taken a tonic to prevent against pregnancy. With the scars that still marred our society, and all the work that still had to be done to heal it, it didn’t seem right to bring a child into the world — even a world that was at peace. And for nearly a century after that, I had continued my tonic, deciding that I would prefer to spend my years with just my mate and my existing family, luxuriating in the time I was gifted enough to get to spend with them all. Three years ago I had stopped taking the tonic, deciding I would be ready for children if they were to come, but even then Rhys and I had not actively been trying to conceive one, content to share eternity with just each other. But now that we had been graced with this new life…  
“Thank you, Madja,” I replied earnestly, clutching her hand as I did so.   
“So you called upon me to examine the lady and the child then,” she said, giving me a once over as we both nodded, her eyes examining not just my stomach but my whole body. “Have you had any symptoms?” she asked as she gestured for me to sit on a couch and put my feet up. Once I was seated, she tugged up my shirt to reveal my flat belly.  
“Beyond some nausea and general exhaustion, nothing so far. I wasn’t even the one who picked up on it — Rhys scented it before I even had a chance to consider the possibility,” I answered. Rhys smiled knowingly.  
“I guess I’ve always been a tad more observant than her,” he smirked and then said, “And I wouldn’t call being bedridden for nearly three days with sickness ‘some nausea and general exhaustion’. Is that normal of a pregnancy?” He directed this question at Madja, who pursed her lips and furrowed her brows.  
“It depends. Pregnancy differs between each female, so for some it may mean nothing, and for others it could mean something is amiss. May I?” She gestured to my stomach and I nodded my ascension as she placed her hands over my lower belly and closed her eyes. She was silent for several long moments before her eyes shot open. Surprise lined her face.  
“Lady,” she said, her gaze darting warily between me and my mate.  
“Is something wrong?” Rhys asked, concern entering his tone.  
“No, no. On the contrary actually.” Some of the tension eased from his features. “You two truly have been blessed. Lady Feyre carries not one child… but two. Twins,” She finished, then amended, “Though both of them are perfectly healthy. A pregnancy with not one but two children can be extremely taxing on the body, and would explain the extreme reactions you’ve been having.”  
Rhys’s jaw had gone slack. So had my own. One child was rare, but two? It was practically unheard of. And then joy warmed Rhys’s features, and he came to kneel beside me on the the floor, gazing at my belly.  
“One more child for us to love,” he smiled. “And,” he added wryly, “One more child for your sisters and my cousin to dote on.” I looked into his eyes, then Madja’s, still not quite believing it. Sensing my disbelief, Madja took my hands between hers and looked into my eyes.  
“You truly are carrying two healthy babies. It is a miracle.” She set my hands on my chest and pulled my shirt back down over my stomach. I was still too stricken to do anything but watch as she retrieved her bag from by the door and began pulling out herbs and tonics and potions and tinctures. She laid out an assortment of them on the low-lying table beside the couch and then began explaining their various purposes to us. “This,” she said, gesturing to a vile containing a grayish powder, “Should help to combat the nausea. Take a pinch once every morning with food. This,” she said, picking up a vile of purplish looking liquid, “is the ensure that the babies are growing and maturing properly. Take two drops on the tongue every other week.” She listed off several other potions and herbs I should be consuming daily or weekly or in some other increment of time, as well as some other information she figured we would find useful as first-time parents.  
When she had finished, she patiently answered all of Rhys’s and my questions. I was about two months along, and would start showing and feeling other symptoms shortly. It was still too early to determine the gender of the babies, thought when she visited again in a month, she may be able to discern it. Yes, indeed it was incredibly rare to be carrying twins. No, we did not need to stop being intimate with each other (a wink at me on that one), but I would need to stop training with Cassian. I would require much more rest for the next seven months, and would need to stop consuming alcohol and increase and alter my diet immediately to be able to support the changes I would start seeing soon. She finished answering our questions, and encouraged us to contact her with any more we may have or any sudden changes that should occur. Then she hugged us both and bid us farewell, making her way to the door. As she was about to pass over the threshold, she paused.  
“I almost forgot,” she said, and reached into her bag for a vile of what looked to be some kind of amber oil. She uncorked it and the smell of oak trees and fresh flowers filled my nostrils. She gave a pointed glance at Rhysand and said, “Rub this on her stomach at least every other day.”  
“What does it do? And why can’t I do it myself?” I inquired.  
“It will help you to relax, but mostly, its to indulge you. And you can’t do it yourself because it is now the High Lord’s job to make sure you are taking it easy and not taking on excess amounts of stress, and this is one way for him to help you keep calm and unwind at the end of the day.” Another glance at Rhysand, and a knowing smile. “Make sure the High Lady is well cared for, High Lord.”  
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he purred, taking the vial from her outstretched hands. She bid us farewell again and waved as she passed through the front door. As the door clicked shut behind her, Rhysand turned to me and took my face in his hands. “My beautiful, brilliant mate — two children. We’ve outdone ourselves.” I nodded my agreement and smiled as he tipped by head back and brushed a kiss over my lips.  
“Perhaps we should celebrate,” I said coyly.  
“I can think of a couple ways to thank you for all your hard work,” he said sensually, moving his mouth to my jaw, my neck, leaving a trail of featherlight kisses in his wake.  
“Indeed,” was all I managed before he winnowed us into the bedroom.


	7. 3 Months Along

“Ooooooh!” Mor let out a barely contained squeal of excitement. “You have to get this one,” she exclaimed, gesturing to a frilly pink garment no bigger than my forearm. Ever since discovering that we would be having two babies, one boy and one girl, Mor had insisted on helping with everything — decorating the nursery, picking out baby clothes, and just generally getting us prepared. She had even organized a party to celebrate the coming babies, and when I had protested it vehemently, she had merely replied, “As High Lady, you would think you would want your people to be able to celebrate alongside you. Or are you so selfish that you cannot share in the joy?” My protesting stopped after that. Mor had claimed that because I was the first of my sisters to have a child, it made everything that much more special, and so everything had been very celebratory as of late. Nesta and Elain had agreed with her on that, both of them helping her to make my life that much more complicated. Even if I complained, though, I truly appreciated all their help. I didn’t know that first thing about preparing to raise a child, let alone two.  
“Mor, we I think we have enough baby clothes. Besides, we came here to get decorations for the nursery, anyways.” As much as I appreciated her help, my feet were aching from our walk into town, and the babies were pressing on my bladder with unyielding demand. I had finally begun showing, and I was growing bigger every day. Madja had informed me that the babies were now about the size of limes. On top of feeling like a beached whale, I tired very easily, and coupled with my everyday duties as High Lady, I was now preparing my life and my home for two new additions, which expended quite a lot of time, and energy.  
“Spoil-sport,” she chided when I waved away the small piece of clothing she was holding up. She seemed to suddenly notice the bags under my eyes, the way I was lagging, and asked with no small amount of concern, “Are you feeling alright?”  
“Just tired,” I said, which seemed to do little to ease the worry shading her features.  
“Maybe we should go back to the townhouse. I think we’ve done enough for today — we can start setting up the nursery,” she offered. While the amount of energy it would take to set up the nursery was considerable, it would be well worth the work. However, I practically shuddered at the thought of walking all the way back home. She seemed to read my thoughts, and before I could say another word, she grabbed my hand and winnowed us back to the other end of the city, landing us in the townhouse. “Come, on,” she said, waving me up the stairs. “This nursery is going to be fantastic.”


	8. 5 Months Along

I thrashed in the sheets, tossing and turning from one side to the other, unable to get comfortable. If I rolled to one side, my back ached, but on the other, I could feel one of the babies pressing against my spleen in an uncomfortable way. I sighed, resigned to yet another sleepless night. Turning back over, I found Rhysand was awake and staring at me.  
“Sorry,” I whispered. “Did I wake you?”  
“No, its alright,” he said. “Are you okay? Are you having trouble sleeping again?”  
“I just can’t get comfortable. Nothing new.”  
He looked at me with eyes that said they understood, that they were sorry, but that in the end it would all be worth every sleepless night. “Maybe I can help,” he said kindly, using one hand to brush the hair back from my forehead. With the other, he began rubbing slow, luxurious circles on my swollen stomach to soothe me, then on my back, easing some of my lingering pain. I heaved a sigh of relief as my discomfort began to ebb away, letting his hands and his scent lull me to sleep, finally. As I began to drift into unconsciousness, I heard him murmuring something. I couldn’t be sure whether I dreamed it or not, but I could have sworn that he leaned down to my stomach and began whispering to it.  
“You two are the most amazing thing to ever happen to me, save for your mother. I love you so much, and wherever you go, whatever you do, I want you to know that you are always loved. Your mom and I love you so much,” he finished, planting a kiss just below my navel. Sleep at last claimed me, dragging me away to a world of dreams.


	9. 7 Months Along: Rhysand POV

“A toast,” Cassian said, raising a glass. “To the father to be!” he finished, draining the amber colored liquid from his glass in one steady gulp. I was two months away from becoming a father, and Cassian was taking the opportunity to break out some of my very old whiskey. Mor, Feyre, and her sisters had gone out for a ladies evening, leaving me with Cassian an Azriel for some, as they put it, “male bonding time.” I snorted at the the thought and drained my glass too, Azriel doing the same to his. I supposed it was a good thing for us to have some time away from the women, anyways. Ever since we had discovered that Feyre was pregnant and shared the news with the rest of our family, the other two Illyrians had been tightly wound — as if they were constantly in protection mode, ready to destroy anything or anyone who threatened their High Lady. I supposed I had probably been acting similarly, my instincts constantly on edge, constantly reminding me to protect, protect, protect my family.  
Cassian made a remark about how I should enjoy my last few months of freedom, Azriel giving him a look that said he should close his mouth before he said anything else stupid. I just looked between the two of them and quietly chuckled. I was reaching for the bottle in the center of the table to pour us all another round when I suddenly felt a pang of fear and pain shudder down the bond between me and Feyre, and something else too — something that felt like panic. I was instantly on my feet, standing so fast I sloshed amber colored liquid all over the table. What’s wrong? What’s happened? Are you alright? I asked her, fear crowding my senses.   
“What is it?” Cassian asked, him and Azriel already on their feet too. Before I had a chance to answer, Mor, Elain, and Nesta appeared in the middle of the room, Feyre draped between them. Azriel swore softly at the fear that drenched her scent.  
“I’m going to get Madja,” was all Mor said before passing Feyre off to her sisters and winnowing away. I was instantly at her side, her face in my hands. I could see the panic in her eyes.  
“What’s wrong?” I asked her, and from her expression I knew that she could hear the sheer terror that had entered my tone.  
“Its the babies, they’re —” she said and then had to stop as she gritted her teeth, face going white with pain. I could see she was squeezing Elain’s hand hard enough to break it, though her sister quietly endured it. My every instinct was chanting at me to protect her from this unknown danger.  
“She’s gone into labor,” Nesta finished for her.   
“But, that’s — its…” I sputtered, at a loss for words. “Its too soon. The babies aren’t due for another two months.” I helped her sisters move her onto a couch and then kneeled down beside her, taking her hands in mine. Having finally recovered herself enough to speak, Feyre said to me,  
“They can’t be coming yet. Its not safe — they’re not ready yet. Don’t let them get hurt,” She said, eyes welling at the pain and the terror she was feeling.  
“Its okay,” I said to her soothingly, squeezing her hands. “We won’t let it come to that. They’re still safe, Feyre,” I said, looking into her eyes. “They’re still safe. I won’t let anything happen to them.” At that moment, Madja and Mor appeared in the center of the room. Madja took one look at Feyre, her tearstained face and pained expression, and ushered me out of the way, dropping down beside Feyre. Madja swiftly pulled up Feyre’s shirt and laid her gnarled hands on her belly, closing her eyes in concentration. A moment later she nodded, as if her own suspicions had been confirmed, and said to no one in particular,  
“Grab my bag,” gesturing to where it lay a few feet away. Azriel was instantly there, the shadowsinger hoisting the bag up and setting it down beside the healer. Madja reached inside and pulled out a vial of dark red liquid, uncorked the top, and held it out to Feyre. “Drink,” she coaxed, going so far as to tilt the vial up to ensure Feyre consumed every last drop of it. After a few terse moments of silence I could see that some of the pain had ebbed away from her features, her body was no longer tense, and her face had returned to a shade closer to its natural color.  
“What was that?” Feyre asked, and I couldn’t tell if she was referring to the liquid she had drunk or to the events leading up to it.  
“That was pre-term labor. Your body was overworked, and it took that stress as a sign that it was time for your babies to come. The tonic I have given you will stop it for now, but will not last long if you don’t give your body the rest it is demanding. You need to be more careful and take it easier. You mustn’t forget that your body is no longer wholly yours, High Lady.” Feyre turned her wide eyes to me, but I was stilled to stricken to speak. I just gripped her hands a little tighter. Madja continued, “I’d like to stay here and observe her for the next few hours to make sure that the labor does not continue. I’d suggest the rest of you leave us so the lady can get some rest.” Mor grabbed Elain and Nesta, Azriel taking Cassian’s hand, and the five of them instantly disappeared.   
I looked at my mate, at the remnants of terror at last fading from her face, and let out a sigh of immense and utter relief. She was fine. The babies were safe — at least for now.


	10. 8 Months Along: Feyre POV

As I strolled through the palace of Thread and Jewels my eyes gobbled down the beautiful colors and textures I saw. As a result of my false labor, Madja had put me on bed rest for the past three weeks. By the time she had finally cleared me for normal activity again, claiming that I was to take it easy unless I wanted my babies to come early, I was starved for a different view than the one afforded me from my bed and my favorite couch in the sitting room. Rhysand and I decided we would go into the city and walk around, if only to get out of the house for a little while. As we walked through the city streets I leaned against him, my hand slung around his hips, his splayed protectively over my round belly. He had been intensely cautious around me these past weeks, acting as if I was made of glass, and I could tell that his instincts to protect me and our children were wearing on him far more than usual. Ever since the scare with my early labor, he had seemed terrified that something would happen to me.  
When I’d asked him about it, he had admitted that he was worried for my health, and that he didn’t think he would soon be able to forget the terror he had felt when he thought I was in danger. Even now, as we walked through the city, I could tell he was intensely aware of everything around us, and was hyper-aware of me, too, monitoring me for the slightest sign of discomfort. I leaned in to his warmth, his scent, the gesture as much a comfort for me as it was a reassurance for him. His hand tightened almost imperceptibly on my stomach at the movement. I tilted my head up and looked into his eyes. There was such joy there, and yet — there was worry, too, hidden beneath his beautiful features. I opened my mouth to say something.  
It happened so fast I almost didn’t catch it. A flicker in the corner of my vision, and then blackness exploded around us. I was wrenched from his grip and flung sideways into an adjacent building, my spine thudding with the impact, the reverberations jolting up and down my body. My first instinct was to wrap my arms around my belly, to make sure they were still there, to provide any extra protection I could; my next was to look around me to locate my mate. I almost couldn’t make him out through the blackness encircling us, but — there. I caught a glimpse of his blue-black hair through the darkness. I made a move towards him, only to be halted by something gripping me in place, rooting me to the spot. I tried to turn away, only to feel something sharp split the skin on my back and set it stinging.  
“Don’t move or your children will die,” a rough male voice whispered into my ear. For emphasis, he pressed the knife he held at the base of my spine in a little deeper, splitting the skin further as a trickle of blood flowed down my back. The blackness began to fade, enough so that I could get my bearings, and it slowly ebbed away to show Rhysand, standing in front of us, face twisted in a picture of world ending wrath. But he could do nothing but watch helplessly with that knife angled against my spine. Still, he tried to edge his way closer to us.  
“That would be a mistake,” the man holding me said as he noticed Rhysand shifting towards us. “You move, High Lord, and she’s dead. Oh, the fun we’ll have with her. But don’t worry — we’ll leave enough broken pieces for you to put back together.” Suddenly it occurred to me that I could winnow if only I could put a little more space between me and that knife —.  
Abruptly we were swept up by a cold, dark wind, and I could feel us sifting through the world, leaving Velaris far behind. That was the last thing I remembered before a strange smelling cloth was thrust over my mouth and I lost consciousness.


	11. Captive

Cold. All I felt was cold in every inch of my body. I was utterly frozen. I cracked my gritty eyes to see that my breathe was clouding in front of me. I was shackled flat on my back to a metal table, in some kind of cellar or dungeon. Wherever I was, it was definitely underground. The first thought that slammed into my head was my babies; where they — I almost choked on the thought as I whipped my head up, looking down at my stomach. The movement sent waves of agony pulsing through my neck and temples.  
“Easy,” murmured a sultry male voice from a dark corner of the room, as if he were trying to calm a spooked horse. “They’re alright — for now. They will continue to remain that way as long as you behave.” Through the blinding pain that was dulling my senses, I could discern that my stomach was still fully intact, with no signs of outward trauma, and was indeed still housing my two unborn children. I struggled against my restraints to no avail. Magic — if I could just get a grip on my magic I could use Helion Spell-Cleaver’s powers to free myself from these shackles. I reached within myself for a tendril of that curse-breaking magic to discover there was nothing — no magic of any kind residing within my body.  
“Ah,” said the voice from the corner, sensing my struggling. “That would be the faebane. We’ve given you enough to incapacitate your magical abilities — but don’t worry. It shouldn’t cause any harm to the little ones.” He said that last part sardonically, as if the safety of my children was some sick, horrible joke to him. I didn’t understand where these people could have gotten their hands on faebane. All the stones that were used to create it were destroyed after our war with Hybern; Rhysand and I had personally made sure that the strange blue stone with magic crippling abilities was wiped off the face of the Earth so it could never harm another soul.  
“Who —,” I started my voice cracking. “Who are you?” I tried again. “What do you want with me?” I looked into the the dark corner that was harboring my captor, just as he shifted and the ball of faelight hovering overhead illuminated his features. Illuminated his chocolate brown eyes, tan complexion, and cropped blonde hair. I knew those features — had looked into them almost every day for the past one hundred years. This was one of Mor’s relatives. A cousin or a brother perhaps. Just as the realization slammed into me, I heard footsteps descending a staircase behind me, and then a deep male voice that I knew all too well filled the silence. It was a voice that haunted me in my nightmares.  
“Looks like we caught ourselves quite the bounty,” Kier drawled from the gloom.


	12. Panic: Rhysand POV

Panic — panic like I had never known slammed into me, accompanied with white hot fury. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move beyond that panic, beyond the instinct roaring at me to protect her, to get her back. I tried to think beyond the eddying abyss that was my terror, tried to regain my motor functions. I felt for the bond in my head, trying to locate the other end of that bridge between our minds. But when I reached her side of that glimmering ebony link between us, I found nothing — not a whisper of my mate. Fury coursed through my veins like a raging fire. I knew the face of the man who had held a knife to my mate’s back. Knew dark, cynical, sadistic mind that hid behind those chocolate brown eyes. I knew exactly why Mor’s eldest brother, Draven, had come and stolen Feyre away. And once I’d gotten her back, I was going to tear him limb from limb. Slowly.


	13. Pain: Feyre POV

Keir sauntered into my line of sight, drawing a blade from the knife belt at his waist and flipping it once, twice, in his hand.  
“I’d suggest,” he smirked, eyes alight with the prospect of spilling my blood, “that you do as we say. Unless, of course, you’d prefer those babies don’t make it out of here alive.” His grin turned truly horrifying as he said it. Terror, true and unyielding, slammed into me like a brick wall. I had to breathe, had to calm myself down, had to get air into my lungs and think. “I’ve been waiting for years for an opportunity like this one to come along. And boy, you really did make it easy for us. What with the knew policies about immigration into your beautiful, gleaming gem of a city,” he said, voice dripping sarcasm, “it was all too easy to sneak in under cover of darkness and wait for the perfect opportunity to come and snatch you away. How Rhysand will rage when he discovers all the horrible, devious things I plan to do with you. He would be willing to do anything to get you and those two bastard-spawns of yours back safely. Anything — including handing over his seat.”  
“He’d sooner let you kill me than give you his throne,” I snarled at him. I didn’t dare mention the fact that I held just as much power over our territory as Rhysand. Keir had refused to recognize my power since I had been crowned High Lady — refused to accept the fact that a woman could hold a position of such tremendous power.  
“Careful now, Feyre darling. Let us remember who’s in control here,” he said, angling his knife against my stomach and slicing a clean, thin line across it for emphasis. Blood dribbled down my side. “And honestly, do you really think he would let you die instead of handing his throne over to me? A prince with a heart of gold, they call him. A king with an uncompromising will and an unwavering devotion to those he loves. Power is not something that defines him — and I’m certain it is something he could do without. Besides,” he added drily. “We both know it would suit me far better.”  
“Why are you doing this?” I asked him. Keep him talking, keep that knife away from my belly as long as possible. That was my only strategy until I regained some of my abilities, or until Rhysand or someone else found me.  
“I think I’ve made it perfectly clear why I am doing this. For centuries you have stifled my people’s possibility, our trade, or ability to grow as a society. We were promised change after the war — promised that you would afford us the same opportunities you afforded all others in your territory. Even after all the blood we shed on your behalf, so you could save that precious human garbage living below the wall from Hybern, you still refused to let us be free. So we decided that if you refuse to give use power, then we would take it, through any means necessary.” To emphasize his last point, he again angled the blade against my stomach, pushing a little hard this time. Close — so dangerously close to where those two lives were still growing, unaware of the danger that had befallen them. Keir took the knife and began an exploration of my stomach, carving lines across my abdomen deep enough to wound, but not yet deep enough to harm. I held in a scream, tears now flowing freely at what I had failed to protect.  
Kier noticed the salt water streaming down my face and chuckled quietly. “There there, Feyre. Don’t worry, we need you alive a little longer. But what we don’t need alive are those two little parasites living inside you.” He took the knife and placed it at the base of my stomach, pushing hard — far too hard — as he sliced a clean line from one side of my stomach to the other. I screamed at the pain, screamed at the blinding fury and rage and at my own helplessness. Oh gods, he was going to carve me like a turkey and rip them from my womb, he was going to kill them before their lives had even begun —  
Night exploded through the room, a whirlwind of death shredding apart every occupant in the room with needle-sharply talons. Rhysand was instantly at my side, hands on my face as he looked me over, eyes catching and widening on the bloody mess that was my stomach.  
“Shhh, its alright,” he murmured at my whimpers, pressing his hands to the wound on my stomach. I screamed as he pressed the two sides of the jagged wound together, trying to staunch the blood loss. I was distantly aware that other people were arriving in the room. I barely noticed as my captors were grabbed, tied and bound, and then vanished from the room, barely noticed as Mor came up to my side and squeezed my hand, tears streaming down her face.  
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “This never should have happened.” The last thing I remembered was Rhysand’s blurry face crossing my vision as he whispered to me,  
“Its going to be fine. They’re going to be fine,” before I was dragged away into the blackest parts of my mind, unconsciousness and blood loss finally claiming me.


	14. A New Family

A vicious, pulsing headache pounded at my temples. I cracked my eyes just enough to take in my surroundings. To register that I was back in my own bedroom. In Velaris. Safe. I moved my hands down my stomach, feeling for to bump that had kept me company for the past eight months — but my hands met nothing. A fresh wave of panic surged through me, bile rising up in my throat as I beheld a stomach that was significantly smaller, a stomach that was missing something vital —.  
“Easy,” Rhysand said soothingly, reaching out and clasping my frantic hands. I hadn’t even noticed him in bed beside me.  
“What —,” I tried to croak out, but my voice was hoarse from screaming.  
“They’re all right,” he said, sensing my panic about my missing babies. A part of me had been cleaved from my body, the most important part. I hissed as I tried to sit up and sizzling pain ripped from a wound in my stomach. I turned pleading eyes on him, begging him to tell me where they were, what had happened. I knew he could sense my panic and despair through the bond.  
“I promise Feyre, they’re all right. We got you back here, but not soon enough. Madja wasn’t able to keep them inside. You had already lost so much blood, and your body couldn’t withstand the strain of keeping you all alive any longer. She had to take them out. But I promise you Feyre, they are safe, and healthy. Mor and Cassian are with them right now.” Some of the panic flooding my veins ebbed away as I reached for my shirt and pulled it up to reveal an jagged red line cutting across the skin that had once been smooth. I ran my finger over it, then hissed at the pain that it caused. I looked back to Rhysand, meeting his gaze to find lingering pain and despair there.  
“I… Feyre, I am so sorry. This never should have happened.” His voice was hoarse as he said it, and I knew he felt responsible. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” he said, eyes rimmed with silver.  
“It wasn’t your fault,” I managed to whisper. “You can’t always blame yourself for the evil of others. There was nothing you could have done to prevent it. You found me, Rhysand. You found me and you saved us, and that is all that matters.” I took his hands and gripped them gently but fiercely, trying to convey to him that he had nothing at all to be sorry for.  
I love you, I said over the bridge between our minds. You are mine, and I am yours, and I love you with the whole of my heart. He cupped my face between his hands and planted a kiss to my brow.  
I love you too, he said into my mind. Then his attitude seemed to shift, his face changing from something sorrowful to something full of joy. “Would you like to meet them?” He asked hopefully, eyes full of wonder and love. I nodded my head enthusiastically, then regretted it as it sent a shooting pain through my temples.  
“Yes,” I whispered hoarsely. He helped me into a more upright position, and then, faster than I could fully register, he was on his feet and through the doorway. He returned a minute later, padding across the threshold on cat-soft feet, his arms weighed down by two small bundles. He walked up to the side of the bed and leaned down gently, giving me a better view of our two children. I don’t know when I started crying, but suddenly my body was shaking with the force of my sobs. I brought my hands up to my face, not quite believing this was real, not quite comprehending that those were my children he was cradling in his arms with such tenderness.  
“I am so proud of you,” he whispered. “You did this — and the fact that they are alive today is thanks to you,” he said gently but forcefully, as if he needed to make sure I understood how true the words he had uttered were.  
“Can I hold them?” I asked, already craving the feel of their tiny fingers, the smell of the tops of their heads.  
“Of course. Of course,” He said simply before shifting the child in his left arm — our little boy — and transferring him into my outstretched arms. He was sleeping, but as he moved from Rhys’s arms to mine he shifted a little in his swaddle, yawning and reaching a tiny pink fist upwards to grab at my collarbone. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. This thing I had made, this child that we had made together… He was absolutely perfect. Safe — we were safe. We were all safe. And I was a mother — we were parents. I repeated it to myself, over and over, into my head, into the the bond between our souls. We were all alive, all four of us, our new family. And I knew that the scars of what had happened to us wouldn’t soon fade, that the feeling of guilt and betrayal wouldn’t soon leave Rhysand. But we were strong. We had endured so much. We could endure this too — could walk through the this terror and come out on the other side victorious. And now we had a family, our own little family. We had something worth fighting for — something worth fighting through the hard days for. Mor had once told me not to let the hard days win. Now I had two more reasons to fight for the good days.


End file.
